


Oops

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Barista Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles, Cute Derek, Derek Has a Sweet Tooth, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 10:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Derek was the one that brought Stiles dinner when he knew Stiles had forgotten, and Derek was the one that massaged Stiles’ feet when he was stressed. When they watched a movie, Stiles snuggled up against him, and Stiles trusted Derek enough to fall asleep on his shoulder.  When Stiles woke up in the middle of the night screaming, Derek was the one that held until he fell back asleep, and in return, Stiles would help him count his fingers when Derek wasn’t sure if he was awake.Derek and Stiles were just friends. Oops?





	Oops

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday, so have an adorable fic of lovely fluffiness!

The bell over the coffee shop door announced Derek’s arrival with a merry jingle a little after 11 in the evening. Derek shuffled the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.

The shop was almost empty at that hour. Only a few students writing their first papers of the new term and a couple of regular night owls were scattered through the shop. His usual seat in the far corner, where he could sit with his back against the wall and keep watch, was open.

Derek dropped his bag on the small table and shrugged his jacket off to drape over the back of his claimed seat. The young woman at the register was new, which could be potentially problematic. Derek didn’t recognize her, but she smiled cheerfully when he approached.

“What can I get you?” she chirped. Her heartbeat fluttered nervously as her scent sweetened with clear want. Definitely problematic.

Derek paused a moment. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He wasn’t sure his drink had a name.

“Oh, well, we have different speciality coffees and teas,” the barista said and gestured to the menu board behind her. “If you want something-”

“I got this!” Stiles slid out of the back room, arms flailing to keep his balance. “Yo,” he said, greeting Derek with a lazy salute, and Derek snorted. His roommate was ridiculous. “Super awesome Stilinski special as dark as your soul, coming right up.”

“Right,” Derek said, gravitating down the bar towards Stiles. “No cinnamon this time.”

“Sure thing.” Stiles flipped a large paper cup into the air and fumbled to catch it, which made Derek chuckle.

When Stiles called him earlier that year, it had been a bit of a shock. Derek had been living in a cabin upstate that he and Laura had bought years ago. He had finally achieved vengeance for his family when he ripped out Kate’s throat and burned her body deep in the woods, but Beacon Hills wasn’t home anymore, so he hadn’t gone back. Now he wished he had.

At first, Derek hadn’t been sure the small voice on the other end of the phone had actually been Stiles, and not something trying to lure him back to Beacon Hills because the Stiles on the other end of the line had been quiet, almost hesitant, and unsure. As if Stiles hadn’t believed he deserved Derek’s help. Definitely not at all the hyperactive, chatterbox he had left behind. They both carried heavy scars, but that was fine.

Before Derek knew it, he had a new roommate and was driving across the country to pick Stiles up the day he got his diploma. Stiles hadn’t been home since, and the Sheriff was worried.

The barista asked Derek what the drink was so she could ring it up as Stiles ducked out of sight to retrieve milk out of the fridge below the counter.

“I don’t know,” Derek said again. “Something chocolate?”

Derek always had the same drink whenever he came in, but he didn’t know what it was because Stiles had never told him. It probably didn’t have a name. The first time he picked Stiles up, Stiles had whipped something up and shoved it into his hands.

Stiles’ head popped back up over the espresso bar. The steamer hissed to life, and Stiles laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. It’s on me,” he said and winked at Derek.

Derek hadn’t paid for a drink yet.

The drink Stiles handed off to Derek smelled overly sweet and chocolatey and was piled so high with whipped cream drizzled with chocolate and caramel that the topping threatened to spill over. He wasn’t sure how Stiles knew about his sweet tooth, but he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Here ya go, big guy,” Stiles said and grinned. “Extra sweet and fluffy. Just like you.”

“Shut up.” Derek ducked his head and smiled shyly. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being friends with Stiles.

They still sniped and bantered, and pushed each other around. Just that morning, Derek had slammed Stiles into the pillar in the middle of their loft and threatened to throw him out the window if he didn’t pick up his smelly socks. But Derek also carried Stiles to bed when he fell asleep on the couch and made sure Stiles remembered to eat and take his medication, and even when he was overwhelmed with school and work, Stiles always made time for Derek, even if it was only a movie before bed or a walk in the park.

For the first few months before Stiles started school, Derek had played tour guide and shown him the city. They saw every cheesy tourist trap and took a million pictures that were now plastered all over Stiles’ Facebook and Tumblr much to Derek’s chagrin, but it had made Stiles happy, and that’s all that had really mattered after hearing exactly what had happened with the Dread Doctors and the Hunt.

Derek couldn’t remember forgetting Stiles. As far as he knew, he had always remembered him. But perhaps that was part of the magic. He couldn’t remember not remembering. He’d never actually know, but he liked to think he had never forgotten Stiles.

From the inner pocket of his bag, Derek pulled out a new book and settled down at the table with his drink. He could have read at home on the couch in the comfort of their apartment, but instead, he chose to hide in the corner of Grindz, a Starbucks wannabe coffee chain, and suffer its unfortunate smells so he could walk Stiles home after he closed at 2 AM.

The late hour didn’t matter. Derek slept whenever he felt like it, but he didn’t trust Stiles to make it home by himself after his disastrous start to city life.

In his first month of living in New York, Stiles had managed to get mugged. It had taken every last ounce of Derek’s control not to hunt down the assholes by scent and rip them apart. Stiles was the only member of the pack in New York, and as such, Derek felt a heightened urge to protect him.

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Sam, the new barista, hissed too low for the other customers to hear. “I know I just transferred to this location, but it is so not okay to hit on customers.”

Derek snorted and snuck a peek at the bar. Stiles’ mouth had fallen open and was sneakily glancing at Derek because he knew Derek could hear their conversation. Usually, it was Stiles’ co-workers making lewd comments about Derek, so this was new.

“F-flirt?” Stiles sputtered, waving his hands defensively in front of himself. “Woah. Hold up. I’m not flirting with-”

The bell over the door jingled. “Yeah. Sure,” Sam huffed with a hint of disappointment in her voice before she went to help the new customer.

“Yeah, well... I’m going on break!” Stiles tried to rip off his red apron but got tangled in the ties.

Chuckling under breath, Derek turned back to his book, and a few minutes later, familiar hurried footsteps approached. Derek pushed the seat across from him out with his foot.

“Have you eaten?” Derek asked without looking up.

“Not yet,” Stiles answered. “I’m just going to run to the sandwich-” Stiles threw himself at Derek, hugging him when Derek bent down and pulled a lunch container out of his bag. “Oh my god. Marry me!”

The tips of Derek’s ears burned. Thankfully Stiles didn’t seem to notice, too busy prying off the lid of the container and digging into the simple spaghetti dish that Derek had brought him as he fell into the empty chair.

“I had a feeling you’d forgotten,” Derek said. He raised an eyebrow. Stiles was wearing a grey henley that Derek recognized now that Stiles wasn’t wearing his apron. “Is that my shirt?”

“None of mine were clean.” Stiles’ heartbeat skipped; a lie. “Dude, you are amazing. You know that?” Stiles said through a mouthful of food. “You didn’t have to come so early. I mean, it’s cool, but I’m not off for another 3 hours.”

Derek closed his book and set it down on the table. He’d only gotten a few pages in, but there’d be time to read while Stiles finished his shift. He didn’t mind spending his evenings at the shop. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, and being near his only pack in the city helped ease his mind.

When Stiles was out of sight, Derek worried. It was illogical because Derek knew he couldn’t keep tabs on Stiles every hour of the day, but after they had both been kidnapped by an old acquaintance of Derek’s during the first week of school, he wanted to keep Stiles close.

Stiles polished off the pasta in record time. Derek snapped the lid back on the container and tucked it back in his bag.

“Hey, we still on for that movie tomorrow?” Stiles said with a slice of cold garlic bread dangling from his mouth. Derek nodded, and Stiles grinned. “Awesome. Can’t wait.”

Without thinking about it, Derek leaned in and wiped a smudge of red sauce on the corner of Stiles’ lips with his thumb, and licked it clean.

Stiles spent the remainder of his break complaining about work, his professors, the six-page paper he had to write that weekend, the rain, the cold, the latest death on Game of Thrones and whether or not he should read the books, and anything else Stiles felt hard done by. Derek dutifully nodded along and hummed in all the right places. He didn’t mind listening to Stiles ramble. He filled the quiet.

Before Stiles, Derek hadn’t realized how lonely he had been. He’d always been the lone wolf on the run, never staying in one place too long. A survivor without a family or a home. But Stiles had changed that when Stiles brought home to him.

Stiles’ mess had invaded his life and taken over the apartment. His clothes were all over the floor, his comics on every table, his games scattered around the TV, and his underwear, somehow, in Derek’s drawer, in Derek’s room, upstairs. Every Friday, without fail, they went to dinner. Always someplace new. On full moons, they’d drive upstate to Derek’s cabin so he could run as a wolf through the woods. Derek was comfortable with Stiles in his space unlike anyone else since losing his family.

Stiles scrubbed his hand through his hair and groaned. “I gotta get back to work. I’m off at two.”

“I’ll be here,” Derek promised and Stiles smiled. He buried his nose back in his book when Stiles disappeared behind the counter.

Stiles’ shift passed quickly. Derek was still reading when the barista came around to give him the five-minute warning, and he ignored her. Stiles had only been working at the shop since mid-July, but he’d already made shift supervisor a few weeks before the start of the semester when several employees quit. If Stiles wanted to kick him out while they closed, he would. He hadn’t yet.

“He’s not leaving,” the barista whispered to Stiles at ten after 2.

Most of the close had been finished by then, and the machines shut down. Derek heard the jingle of keys and clink of change as Stiles unlocked the tills so he could take the drawers to the back and count them.

“What are you doing?” the barista said. “You’re not supposed to do that with a customer in the store. What if he robs us?”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Derek’s all scowls and eyebrows. Don’t worry about it. Just lock the door and finish your close.” The door to the back room swung closed as Stiles disappeared into the back room.

Derek was being watched. He did his best to ignore her, but it prickled his instincts and set him on edge. Packing up, he shot a quick text to Stiles letting him know he’d wait for him outside. He unlocked the front door himself and slipped out into the cool night air.

A few seconds later, the lock clicked closed behind him as Sam locked him out and sighed in relief.

Tucked under the awning out of the rain, Derek waited.

_“Umm... Stiles?”_

_“Yeah?”_ Stiles sounded distracted, probably double checking the math in his head. _“Did you need help with the bar?_ ”

_“Oh, no! I’m done. I was just wondering...”_

Stiles hummed, mind elsewhere.

_“I know I’m new here, but I thought maybe, some time, you’d like to, maybe... get a drink?”_

_“I... oh. Like, you... and...”_ The chair in the back office squeaked as Stiles fidgeted, and Derek hands curled into fists.

A cute girl wanted to date Stiles. That was great. It didn’t involve Derek in the least, but he couldn’t stop the deep rumble in his chest at the idea of Stiles with someone else. Stiles was Derek’s pack, not Sam’s.

_“Look, uh, Sam. You’re cool and all, but I’m just not... you know.”_

_“Single?”_

_“What? No. I’m... oh.”_

Derek’s claws prickled the strap of his bag, and he growled. The conversation inside the coffee shop died, and both baristas hurried through the rest of their close. Derek couldn’t stop the low growl building in his chest, and a young woman glanced worriedly at him as she hurried past, clutching her bag a little tighter as she did.

Derek was the one that brought Stiles dinner when he knew Stiles had forgotten, and Derek was the one that massaged Stiles’ feet when he was stressed. When Stiles woke up in the middle of the night screaming, Derek was the one that held until he fell back asleep, and in return, Stiles would help him count his fingers when Derek wasn’t sure if he was awake.

Derek always made sure there was food in the fridge and snacks in the cupboard for long nights of studying and brought home Stiles’ favourite milkshake from the diner down the street. Stiles made him cookies, stole his clothes, and wore his scent.

No matter how much of a fuss Stiles kicked up, Derek paid when they went out because he wanted to. When they watched a movie, Stiles snuggled up against him, and Stiles trusted Derek enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. 

Stiles - it had always been Stiles. The annoying, hyperactive spazz that carried enough guilt to rival his own. Utterly human, but never helpless Stiles.

The lock on the door clicked and the bell jingled as the door opened. Sam exited the shop, Stiles close behind. She mumbled a quick farewell without looking at Stiles, but shot Derek a wary glance as she passed.

Stiles locked the door to the coffee shop and turned to Derek. “Hey...” he greeted, scuffing his sneaker against the pavement. He wrapped his red hoodie tighter around his body.

“Hey,” Derek replied, and his claws slowly retracted as he inhaled Stiles scent that had mixed with his own and clung to Stiles’ temporarily misappropriated shirt. Derek couldn’t even begin to care. All he wanted to do was go home and collapse on the couch with Stiles so they could finish the last few episodes of the television show they had started together earlier.

The silence between them should have been awkward as they walked home, but it wasn’t. It was comfortable. It was them.

Stiles kicked a rock that skittered across the pavement and shot off the curb. “So...” he said, drawing out the vowel. His heartbeat raced and jumped with the stench of nerves. “Did you know, we’re like, dating?”

Derek nodded. “It did dawn on me.”

“Really?” Stiles head jerked to the side as he stared at Derek.

“About ten minutes ago,” Derek hummed, his expression neutral. He tugged Stiles to the left to avoid a lamppost.

A flailing limb smacked Derek in the chest as Stiles sputtered and dragged Derek to a stop in the middle of the deserted sidewalk. “And you’re okay with that? I mean, I know I’m not exactly-”

Curling an arm around Stiles’ waist, Derek cupped Stiles’ cheek dragged the gaping human against him to lay a delicate, but sure kiss on his lips. 

Stiles blinked at Derek, mouth frozen, and Derek stepped back. He left his hand on Stiles’ hip and snuck his thumb under the hem of the borrowed Henley so he could rub small, soothing circles against bare skin with his thumb.

Stiles let out a slow breath, still a little dazed and unfocused. “I... wow. That was... wow.” He swallowed and licked his lips, eyes darting down to Derek’s mouth. “We should do that like, all the time.”

Derek ducked his head to hide a shy smile. “We can.”

Stiles pumped a fist into the air. “Oh, hell yeah we can!” he shouted, and Derek’s wolf howled when Stiles grabbed him by the back the neck to drag him into another, hungrier, but sloppy kiss. They could work on technique later.

**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


End file.
